I lived in a house with paper windows when I was a child. I remember sitting in my room watching the sunshine scene permeating the room from between muntins. Sometimes I poked a hole in the window paper with my finger and looked outside. The window was a medium to look outside and a frame bordering indoors and outdoors. The appearance of the muntins was straightforward but had quite sophisticated rules. The rafters, floors, pillars, walls, stone fences, and cabinets were also composed of a grid system with proportions, symmetries, and repetition of lines, just like the paper windows. Despite my young age, the spatial image felt like a medium for forming a relationship between me and the world.
One day, I observed the cross-section of an orange. Each granule arranged with its own rules, but as a whole, they had a mutually organic relationship forming a sphere toward the center. Unlike apple or cherry with seeds inside, the orange lacks a conspicuous midpoint(core) but creates an orb through its original composition. I thought orange was a small version of the earth in this sense. They are both globular thus visually similar, but their members are likewise unique in character and shape. Moreover, just like granules come together to form a complete orange, even a very complex object is a collection of simple elements. When these parts are geometrically drafted, the results are simple shapes as triangles or circles.
Each figure representing the minimal version of objects possesses its shape, scale, distance, and angle. It overlaps each other following the regulation of organic composition in a single frame to create a second figure. As I had studied the structural formation of my childhood house by observing the geometrical images and objects in that place, those mathematical notations from my experience and study have built up all the fundamental thoughts for my artwork. / 2015.
A single atom may turn into many kinds of materials depending on its quantity and arrangements. Likewise, in the space of two dimensions, various images appear according to the number and structures of the exact figures. For instance, imagine that I create several resembling a triangle-ish figure. Now, arrange them to make a module, then start moving the module and trace its position regularly—the completed image forms when I stop the module. And I can create more images by tracing its movement at shorter breaks.
I took one triangle-ish figure, generated countless variations using it, and selected the most satisfying arrangements from them. But why did I find satisfaction in those specific ones? What distortions occur when I render an ideal image into a drawing or painting, and why? And, how could two-dimensional art intervene in that process? / 2020.
When I work, I consider my hand as a printer. But this printer is not sophisticated. As a result, sometimes lines in the drawing have hand vibration or stray from the range where they should be.
No matter how elaborate I tried to draw, I thought my hand could not be more sophisticated than a drawing machine (robot arm). After getting out of that effort things, I was able to imagine the freedom of lines. It means that the less precise the lines are, the more data. In addition to the line's length and direction, it may vary in thickness, concentration, and speed depending on the situation and environment when drawing it.
The less elaborate the picture, the more the probability of diversifying disorderly. I guess I'm looking for the midpoint in between. A picture that is not overly disordered and not elaborated. Just like the cross-section of the orange looks regular from a distance, but it is not. / 2021.